


Riding Lessons

by queenhomeslice



Series: Introduction to Zoology [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Prompto Argentum, Chocobos, Chubby Reader, Cowgirl Position, Curvy Reader, F/M, Field Trip, Heavy Petting, Kissing, Older Man/Younger Woman, Professor Prompto Argentum, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Student Reader, Wiz Chocobo Ranch, fat reader, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:21:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22036219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: The professor surprises you with a few hidden skills
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Reader
Series: Introduction to Zoology [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592647
Comments: 20
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> FFS I cannot stop the buildup to the smut with Professor Prompto. I'm really in my feelings over this so I guess this work has two chapters now because I don't know how to stop.  
> ______
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.

You’ve only been to the chocobo ranch once before in your life, back when you were little—so seeing how it had changed is really exciting. Only about twenty of your classmates had opted to come on the trip, so it’s definitely easier to grab Professor Argentum’s attention more often and more easily than usual. Mostly everyone else is in classic hiking or camping gear—jeans, hiking boots, flannel shirts and trendy jackets—but the professor is really hamming it up and showing his love for the huge pack birds. He’s dressed from head to toe in printed chocobo gear—hat, shirt, socks, lanyard, and wristbands. He’s been excitedly pointing out the differences in breeds and males versus females, in addition to cooing over the small fluffy chicks and feeding the birds Ghysal greens until Wiz himself has to slow the professor down. 

With just a couple of hours of daylight left, the rest of the class is out on a beginner’s trail ride, led by Wiz; you and the professor have stayed behind at the ranch, setting up eight three-person tents for the class to sleep in. They’re all in a circle right outside of a battered old RV camper near one of the bird pens, and the professor begins to stoke a large campfire, and you watch in fascination as he pulls flint and steel from his pocket and strikes it, lighting pile of dead leaves and sticks at the base of his large wooden teepee of larger branches. He stokes the fire for several minutes, pulling wads of paper and lint from a pocket on his cargo pants to shove at the base. 

He dusts his hands on his pants as he stands, but his long, deft fingers are still dirty and red, and all you can think about is having them on you. His wide, blue-violet eyes meet yours and he blushes, just a little. 

“You don’t seem like the type that knows how to start a fire from scratch.” 

Professor Argentum laughs. “I’m just full of surprises. The summer between our senior year of high school and my first semester of college, I actually took a road trip around Lucis with Noct; his adviser, Ignis; and his shield, Gladio. Gladio’s a _huge_ camping buff, and he taught me everything I know about wilderness survival. I may not look it, but drop me off in the middle of nowhere with a chocobo and a compass and I’m pretty sure I’d make it back to Insomnia in one piece.” 

This information shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. He has no right to be this smart and knowledgeable about camping. You sigh heavily, shaking your head. “How are you _this_ hot?” you mutter, even though there doesn’t seem to be anyone around—you don’t want the ranch hands to start gossip, either. 

The professor goes red to his ears and looks away, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “I, uh...thanks...?” 

You cross over to him and lay a hand on his shoulder, and he visibly stiffens. “How much longer until the tour is over?” you whisper quietly. 

The professor checks his watch. “They left at four...it’s four-forty-five, now...so five thirty? Somewhere around there. The tour is supposed to be an hour and a half. But they could be slower...since I think your classmates have never ridden before...they might stop a lot, ask Wiz for help...” He nervously lifts his head and meets your gaze. He swallows hard. “Why...do you ask...?” 

You flick your eyes to the RV outside of the large ring of tents the two of you had set up. “Wanna go in?” You don’t wait for him to answer as you turn and head for the camper. 

It’s dark and a little dusty inside of the camper, but it’s mostly clean otherwise and smells overwhelmingly like dollar-store cardboard tree air fresheners. You flick on the lights—the RV’s hooked up to electricity while stationary, thank the gods—and make your way to the back bedroom, pulling the blinds closed along the way. As soon as you sit on the bed and kick off your boots, the RV door opens and shuts, and you smirk as the professor locks the door behind him and slowly makes his way to the tiny back bedroom that’s only big enough for a queen mattress and box spring and a bedside table. 

“Semester technically isn’t over,” Professor Argentum murmurs. 

You resist the urge to sigh. You stare him down, shamelessly ogling his lean, muscled body. He really is one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen. He’s blushing, and even in the shitty lighting of the old RV, you can see the constellations of his freckles and the flecks of violet in his blue eyes. You unconsciously lick your lips. 

The professor inhales sharply and looks away again. 

“Do I make you nervous?” you ask. “Because I don’t want to make you nervous, I just...wanted to spend some alone time with you.” 

The blond shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry, I just--” 

“I can go, Professor. It’s all right. I’ll go see the chocobos. Or study.” You start to stand up, but the professor puts a warm hand on your shoulder to stop you. 

“I’m--it’s been years since I’ve been in a relationship,” he says quietly, still avoiding eye contact. “And I don’t...barely have any experience with women. I have better luck with guys.” 

You plop back down on the bed, hard. “You’re bi?” 

The professor shrugs. “Bi, pan...whatever you wanna call it. I like kind people—those are the most attractive to me. The body parts don’t matter as much. Is that...okay with you?” 

You nod furiously, even though he’s not looking. “Oh, shit, yeah! I mean...I’m not that picky either.” You see him smile shyly. 

“It’s been years since I’ve even been intimate. Between finishing my master’s and starting to teach, I just haven’t had time...” His voice trails. “I’m sorry—I feel as though I’m going to fuck this up. Which I don’t wanna do. We’re both adults, I know that, but I don’t want to take advantage of you...” 

“Professor, you’re not taking advantage of me. I promise.” 

“You’re really cute,” he says. 

It’s your turn to blush, even though he’s called you cute before—it still warms you from the inside out. “You like ‘em thick, sir?” you tease. 

Professor Argentum chokes out a laugh and blushes an even deeper red. “Been with people of all sizes,” he says. “Told you, package doesn’t matter. I’m more interested in personality.” He turns his head and finally looks at you. “But uh. I do think chubby girls are super cute. Which you are. Pretty. Really pretty. And cute. And chubby.” 

You grin widely. “Can I kiss you?” 

The professor gasps quietly and numbly nods. You scoot over on the bed and pat the space beside you, bidding him to sit. As soon as his skinny ass hits the mattress, you lean forward, clutching his graphic yellow chocobo t-shirt in your fists as you press your lips to his mouth. 

It doesn’t surprise you that Prompto Argentum is a good kisser—but the virile intensity with which he moves his mouth threatens to leave you breathless. His dorky little reading glasses are all fogged up, and he’s clutching the back of your neck like he’s afraid you’re going to disappear. He tastes so sweet, and his mouth is so hot and pliant against yours, and his quiet breathless whines are doing horrible things to the space between your thighs. His hands start to wander, and you let them—down your smooth neck, beneath the collar of your flannel shirt, long slender fingers dancing along your collarbones. Your skin burns everywhere he touches you—every nerve is on fire, and you feel yourself shaking and struggling to breathe. He’s not doing much better—your own hands have bunched his t-shirt up around his ribs and you’re doing your best to explore every inch of his creamy, freckled skin. He goes wild when you palm his pert, pink nipples; you rub them and pinch them until you taste the salty tears that are running down his cheeks. 

Professor Argentum is just starting to push you back on the bed when you hear a cacophony of “Kewhs!” outside in the distance, along with the excitable voices of your classmates. He pulls away, red-faced with kiss-swollen lips, in mild panic. He locks eyes with you, then looks down. “I’m going to have to take a cold shower,” he mumbles. “Go outside, now.” 

You wink at him and smile, making your way out of the RV before any of your classmates can dismount their birds and gather around the campfire. Maybe later, in his tent, after all of the other students are asleep, you can get your own private riding lessons. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally get to ride your favorite chocobo

Other than the quiet rustling of feathers and the occasional soft coos and chirps of the chocobos, the ranch is fairly silent. The professor’s expertly-crafted campfire is down to smoldering embers, and your classmates are silent, soft snores and quiet breathing coming from the tents. Professor Argentum is in his own tent alone, of course; and you’re closest to the flap of the tent you’re sharing with two of the other girls in the class. Your backpack and small duffel bag are tucked in the corner. According to your slowly dying phone, it’s midnight. You turn to make sure the other girls are asleep, and you quietly reach into the outside pocket of your backpack to draw out a sample packet of lube and a condom, slipping from the tent and crossing the giant circle to the professor’s shelter. 

He’s not asleep, of course, but you nearly stop dead in your tracks as you slowly unzip his tent flap and catch him tucking his hard cock back into his pajama pants as you stick your head inside. He looks like a chocobo in headlights, a kid with his hand in the cookie jar—and you’ve never been so turned on in your life. You quickly shuffle inside and zip the door back up. 

“What are you doing?” His voice is groggy with fatigue, but also high-pitched with arousal. The only light is the soft light of his phone, which is plugged up to a battery pack; it’s playing soft instrumental music, screen barely giving enough light to see beyond the professor’s nervous face. 

“We got so rudely interrupted earlier,” you whisper. “And after your lecture at dinner, you were too busy making sure everyone was settled and safe.” 

He’s silent, so you continue. “Everyone else got to take a chocobo ride except for me.” 

The professor just stares, realization blooming onto his sharp angular features in the most adorable way possible. He clears his throat and looks down and away. “It’s rather late for a ride, Miss ____________. Perhaps I can teach you tomorrow?” 

You shake your head, and bring out the packet of lube and the condom. “Aw, come on Professor. I brought all my own supplies and everything.” 

Professor Argentum snaps his head back up and stares at the little square packets in your hand. 

“Looks like you’re all ready to go, too.” You boldly reach down to palm his erection through his thick gray sweatpants. 

The professor’s reaction is nearly violent. He thrusts his fist between his teeth and bites down hard, biting back the high-pitched whines that he so desperately wants to make. He drops back down on top of his sleeping bag and his pile of blankets, other hand clutching desperately at the covers as he bucks up into your hand. 

Gods, he’s thick. You only wish that you could see him fully, on a nice plush bed with all the lights on and the freedom to make as much noise as the two of you want—but his need is immediate and you’ve wanted this for months. You still your hand but leave it over his crotch and pry his fist from his mouth. He’s already panting hard and crying—he _did_ say it had been years since he’d been touched, and you’re honored to be his first after so long. You catch his lips in a heated kiss, and he whines into your mouth. You pull away after a just a few swipes of your tongue. 

“Can I call you Prompto?” you whisper into his ear as you nibble on his earlobe. 

“Astrals, _yes_ ,” the professor—Prompto—groans. “Pl-please, ____________” he begs, dropping his usual affectionate title. “I can’t take it anymore.” 

“Mmmmm, decided to give me my riding lesson after all, huh? I can’t wait.” You make short work of your clothes, and Prompto slides his pants and boxers off in one fell swoop. Once he rolls the condom on and coats himself in lube, he grabs your hands and helps you hold yourself up on top of him as you sink down onto this thick cock, taking him to the hilt and bottoming out all in one thrust. 

Prompto releases one of your hands and grabs his balled-up sweatpants, covering his face and biting into the thick fabric as he tries to cover his muffled screams. You’re throwing your own head back in ecstasy as you feel him throb hot and heavy inside of you. You swirl your hips slightly, getting the feel of him and loosening up your body more. This is really only your second time, but you don’t want to tell him that, lest he feel even more guilty about the power dynamics and age difference. Instinct kicks in, however, and you begin to find a rhythm with your thick hips and thighs, bouncing up and down on the professor’s cock like your life depends on it. 

“You feel _so_ good, Prompto,” you whisper, wishing you could scream out his name like you desperately want to. 

He makes no move to draw his sweatpants from his face, but you do register a head nod as he continues to hold you up with his one, strong arm. He’s surprisingly built, which is something you didn’t expect from the normally preppy-dressed professor. His biceps are strong and solid, the planes of his pale, freckled pecs and abs sharply defined. The thin hips between your legs are marked with faint silver stretch marks—you'll have to ask about those later. His sharp collarbones are pooled with sweat. He's a pale vision beneath you, a sharp contrast to your wide soft stomach and thick thighs, heavy breasts and double chin. The sounds he’s making under the fabric of his pants are downright obscene, but it only adds to the scandal of having sex with your college professor in a tent in the middle of nineteen of your classmates. You reach down and begin to rub your clit with your free hand, feeling your orgasm building after several minutes. 

Prompto meets your rhythm perfectly, like no time has passed since he’s done this. His lean sculpted thighs push up to meet your body, driving his thick cock deeper and deeper inside of you. You think about what it would be like to feel him raw, to have him shoot his thick load inside of you, and suddenly you’re shaking on top of him, riding out your release. 

“ _Oh, ____________ , I’m...” is all you can make out before he thrusts a few more times, too fast with faltering rhythm until he’s lifting his hips and driving into your pliant body as far up as he can go. 

You lean your head back and let out a quiet moan as you feel him throb and fill up the condom. You don’t move until you feel him start to flag and go soft, and you shakily lift yourself from his quivering form and lie beside him, pulling the condom from his cock and tying it in a knot to keep most of his spend inside of it. 

The sweatpants finally fall away from Prompto’s blood-red face and he gasps for air, wiping his eyes of the heavy tears that had fallen. 

“So,” you manage to whisper brokenly. “Do my riding skills pass?” 

“ _A plus_ ,” moans Prompto softly, reaching down and grabbing your hand. 


End file.
